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She was inside Ildakar now, the hated city, the place of pain. Where her sister panther was.
Nicci rolled restlessly in her sleep, uneasy, not accustomed to sensing fear from the sand panther.
Mrra drove away her skittishness and kept moving. She stuck to the shadows. There was much food to eat here, although the hunting would be different.
From her trancelike state, Nicci tried to communicate with Mrra. “You must hide! Hide! Find a place before dawn comes.”
Mrra kept moving through the lower levels of the city, which were relatively empty in the deep heart of the night. Guards patrolled the streets, and Mrra sensed armored soldiers in the distance, many of them walking alone, some in groups of three or four. A few other people were about—night workers who stuck to the main thoroughfares, and some who liked the shadows as much as Mrra did. Human hunters.
She heard a muffled shout ahead, a scuffle, a fight. Curious, but wary, Mrra padded along, darting around the corner of an alley to where she could see an open street. Three brown-robed humans were attacking one of the lone city guardsmen.
Nicci saw through the panther’s eyes, but also through the filter of Mrra’s experience. Everything seemed different. The three human figures were attacking the guard like a troka of panthers bringing down large prey. The guard fought, but the human predators were stronger.
Mrra smelled blood.
Nicci smelled blood.
But it did not make either of them hungry. Instead, the scuffle attracted attention, and Mrra melted back into the darkness, concerned only with finding a place to hide before the sun rose.
CHAPTER 23
What remained of the Palace of the Prophets—if anything—called to Verna and repelled her. The entire island had been devastated, the immense structure wiped out after having served the Sisters for three thousand years. But the possibility of finding some small, valuable remnant had made the prelate embark on her long journey to Tanimura.
Ever since the world changed—along with many of the rules the Sisters of the Light had followed—Verna had been searching for answers, or even the right questions. Maybe she would find them here. She reminded herself that she was still the prelate, even though she didn’t know exactly what that meant anymore.
When she arrived in Tanimura and reported to the garrison, she could have gone immediately to Halsband Island, to see for herself, but she decided to rest for a day, to reestablish connections with the ten Sisters who had arrived earlier. Certainly they would have already gone to weep at their former home.
The soldiers of the D’Haran army were busy constructing barracks for the influx of new arrivals, but General Zimmer had already designated one set of barracks for the Sisters. Verna appreciated the gesture and accepted her new quarters, but she thought the women might be better off finding someplace in the city. For thousands of years the Sisters had been well respected in Tanimura, and she was sure someone would remember them fondly.
On the other hand, the Sisters of the Dark had wrought great havoc on the city, tearing the harbor apart, wrecking ships. And when Richard had triggered the destructive light web integrated throughout the palace, that Subtractive Magic had unleashed more devastation than the city had ever seen. The island had been empty ever since.
But maybe something remained. Maybe …
General Zimmer had invited her to be his guest at dinner, but she begged off, knowing that Captain Norcross needed to present his full briefing from the People’s Palace, to describe the recovery of D’Hara after the end of the recent war in the Dark Lands. It was a time of healing and expansion, and of remembering those who had fallen.
After reuniting with the ten Sisters, Verna talked with them late into the night, but the next morning, she woke refreshed and restless. The ruins of the palace called to her, and she knew she had to go. Since the other Sisters had already gone back to the ruins, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, Verna wanted to explore the rubble on her own, whether or not she found anything.
Some of the others tried to discourage her. “We’ve already searched, Prelate,” said Sister Rhoda. “And searched and searched. It will only break your heart.”
“Truly, nothing useful remains,” said Sister Eldine, who tied her thick black hair back in a braid. “It will only remind you of all we have lost.”
“My heart is already broken, and perhaps I need to be reminded of what we have lost.” Verna had made up her mind. “Nevertheless, this is something I need to do. I consider it a pilgrimage.”
But Novice Amber, Norcross’s fresh-faced sister, was solicitous, wanting to spend time with the prelate, and Verna decided to take only the girl with her. The company might do her good. “Amber and I will explore,” she said. The other Sisters nodded in acceptance, though they clearly doubted the prelate would find something they had overlooked.
Verna and the young novice left the garrison just after sunrise and made their way across the city, crossing the wide bridges that spanned the fingers of the Kern River as it spilled into the sea. She was too set on her mission to notice the brightly garbed people in the streets, the yellow D’Haran flags flying with the stylized-“R” symbol for Lord Rahl.
Something about the lovely Amber reminded Verna of her own daughter, Leitis, when she was young. A long, long time ago, the child had been fathered by the wizard Jedidiah … so long ago that Leitis had died of old age by now, and Jedidiah was dead from his own treachery. And yet Verna went on. She didn’t know who she was anymore. Maybe she would find her answers here.
The two women passed a weaver’s street, a warehouse filled with bolts of cloth, from warm wool to dyed cotton, even expensive silk. Amber looked in all directions, her deep blue eyes wide and excited, but Verna kept moving at a brisk pace. She asked, “Why did you join the Sisters, child?”
“Because it is what I aspire to, Prelate.” The girl straightened, recovering her resolve. “I hope that through hard work and dedication I can be worthy of the order.”
“I can already tell that your heart is worthy, but if prophecy is gone and our teachings are no longer valid, I am not sure what the Sisters can offer you. Our focus was so much on prophecy.”
They paused at an intersection as a well-dressed man and woman rode by on two horses. The man touched the brim of his hat and nodded respectfully at Verna, though she didn’t know how he had recognized her.
Amber continued, “The Sisters are revered. I’ve dreamed of joining you all my life, and now that I’m here, Prelate, I don’t want to give up that dream.”
“Maybe it’s only a dream,” Verna said.
“The Sisters are still real to me,” Amber insisted.
Verna smiled at the girl, conceding. “And we are happy to have you.”
When they reached the outskirts of the city and the wide stretch of river, Verna could finally see Halsband Island close at hand across the open water. Her heart sank with dismay as she stared. “I was prepared for this, yet I could never be prepared enough.”
The bridges that had connected the island to the mainland were wiped out, vaporized in the detonation of the light web that had brought down the palace. The island itself looked as if some great hand had swept across a tabletop, knocking away all debris and leaving only an empty surface.
Now a barren stretch of river flowed past, leaving the island isolated. The water, formerly green as it spilled into the ocean, was now clogged with silt. A few large broken rocks thrust above the waterline, creating hazards. Several fishermen in flatboats poled around in the shallow river mud.
“How will we get across?” Amber asked.
Verna picked her way down the slope, pushing low shrubs away so she could reach the riverbank. “One of those fishermen will take us,” she said with confidence. “I am still the prelate, after all, and I doubt they would deny my request.”
On the rocks and sand of the open bank, Verna raised a hand to attract their attention. Amber waved more vigorously and called out, and one young fisherman poled his flatboat over,
obviously more interested in the beautiful young novice than in the old prelate. When he brought his boat ashore, Verna could see four long catfish lying belly-up at his feet, their heads bashed in but their whiskers still extended and twitching.
“You must be anxious for a catfish dinner, coming down to get my catch before I even row to market,” the young man said brightly. “How can I help you, dear ladies?”
“It’s not fish we’re interested in, but a ferryman. We’d like to go to the island. Can you take us?”
A troubled cloud crossed the young man’s tanned face. “Nobody goes to the island.”
“Then we shall have it all to ourselves.”
Skeptically, he turned to Amber. “Do you really want to go there?”
At the bottom of the flatboat, one of the catfish twitched, and the young man snatched up a cudgel in his left hand and bashed it again with a wet smack.
“Yes, we do,” Amber said. “I’m with the prelate. We’d like to see what remains of the Palace of the Prophets.”
